Past Midnight (4 page)

“Good to see you, too, man.” Dominic put his tongue to his teeth to make sure they hadn’t been rattled out of his head.

Jamison was a big man with an expanded midsection, a bald pate, and a huge pinkie ring with a ginormous diamond. He was in carburetors. The racing industry had strict guidelines on the thickness of everything from car panels to holes bored through a carburetor for increasing performance. And they used DKG gauges. Jamison was a good customer, and despite his bluster, Dominic had always liked him. He and his wife had flown from Palm Beach to attend Jay’s memorial service.

Jamison boomed a laugh that still managed to turn heads despite the noise level in the hall. “I tell ya, Cam was a peach last year, but I had to watch all my p’s and q’s with that little gal.”

Dominic had a hard time believing Jamison could actually accomplish that. With the fees already paid, Dominic had sent Cam Phan in his place last year. She’d been new at DKG, replacing his previous software engineer when Reggie up and quit because Dominic refused to give him a higher percentage of the profit sharing. From day one, he and Erin had agreed everyone would profit equally. Even their share was the same. As good an engineer as he was, Reggie had always been a pain in the ass. Cam might not have his genius, but she was a quiet little thing and she worked hard.

“She didn’t speak for a month straight after she got back.” Not true, but Dominic couldn’t help ribbing Jamison.

Jamison smacked his forehead. “I’m such a jerk.” But he smiled, not minding the dig at all. “Ryan’s got the penthouse at the Milton. Nine o’clock, party hearty. You comin’?”

Dominic glanced at his watch. The Budweiser mixer would get under way in a few minutes, and he could sure as hell use a beer. After that? He had to fetch Erin from the airport. Her flight came in just past midnight. He hoped she’d sleep on the plane. “Not tonight,” he said. “Anything going on tomorrow?”

“I heard Miterberg is putting on something. And man”—Jamison shook his fingers as if he’d touched a hot stove—“he’s rented a freaking palace.”

“Miterberg usually puts on a good party,” Dominic said mildly. A
good
party was understating it. Miterberg was a so-called silent partner of a high-profile racing team, and everything he did, he did big. He’d have rented a mansion with acres of grounds and fifty million bedrooms (slight exaggeration). Lobster, crab legs, jumbo prawns, caviar, anything you could think of to drink, and the entertainment would be risqué. Erin would finally get to see what he’d told her about. That had been his plan since the moment he’d decided to bring her. “Erin’ll love it.”

Jamison’s bushy eyebrows, in dire contrast to his bare scalp, shot up. “Dude. You can’t take your
wife
there.”

Dominic laughed. “I won’t let her venture too far from me.” He’d let Erin go anywhere she wanted. He would encourage her. His pulse quickened with the possibilities. He had no clue why he was wired this way, why jealousy wasn’t a factor for him. Maybe it was plain old desperation now, anything to get her to see him again, interact with him, play with him the way she used to. Perhaps he’d be jealous if fantasy actually became reality, but whenever he thought about it, whenever he’d told Erin the stories about what he’d seen and how he’d love to watch a guy doing her, he’d become so hard he couldn’t think straight. Miterberg’s party could be the big test. Would he let someone touch her? Would she?

Jamison shook his fingers again, his pinkie ring glittering in the overhead lights. “Man, you’re taking a chance,” he said, punctuating with another boom of laughter. “My wife would castrate me if she knew what went on at some of the parties.”

It wasn’t only PRI. It happened at a lot of trade shows. Okay, maybe not the National Association of Accountants annual conference, but he’d worked in an industrial environment long enough to know there was a fair amount of kink going on out there. Not every party, of course; sometimes, he’d had to make things up for Erin, but he was hoping he could find something hot for her to see. A Miterberg party was a damn good bet. Dominic winked at Jamison. “Get me an invitation, would ya?”

“Will do. Catch up with you later.” Jamison followed the crowd into another of the exhibit halls, where the beer would already be flowing and the Budweiser girls mingling. That was part of the charm of this particular show, the scantily clad ladies hawking their sponsors’ wares. Dominic did his share of looking, but he’d never cheated. He didn’t want other women. He wanted to watch Erin with another man.

Their one kinky experience had been unintentional. A hiking trip, they’d gone off trail. Thinking they were out of sight, Dominic had turned her around, pushed her up against a sturdy redwood, tugged down her hiking shorts, and done her standing up as she braced herself against the tree.
Hot
didn’t cover it. The ultimate was when they realized the trail they’d been on wound around, and they were on display for a couple coming from the opposite direction. It hadn’t stopped him. It hadn’t stopped Erin. In fact, her moans got louder. There in the forest, they’d had some of the hottest sex of their marriage, all while that couple watched. Hell, they’d relived that one event for a lot of fantastic sex later.

Dominic thought of the silent nights in their bed, her hands, her mouth. He needed more, wanted her to touch him, kiss him, talk to him. The only way they connected these days was sexually, in the dark and the silence. But he needed her to connect with him outside of their bed. Even if she got pissed about the party, at least there’d be some sort of connection. She’d actually have to talk to him. Just as she’d had to acknowledge him when he had Rachel make the reservation.

A little kink could be exactly what he needed to crack the shell she’d grown around herself, and an elaborate party at a mansion would be the perfect place to find it.

“THANKS, RACHEL, I APPRECIATE THE RIDE TO THE AIRPORT.” ERIN hadn’t been comfortable accepting, but when Rachel offered, turning her down had seemed churlish.

“I don’t mind.” Though Rachel had bargained for not having to return to work. At least she’d gotten something out of it.

The San Jose airport was only twenty minutes from DKG, especially at freeway speed. Erin remembered the days when Highway 880 was gridlocked at almost any time of day, not just commute hours, but you could see the recession’s hit in lighter traffic on the roads and rental signs in building after building lining the freeway.

“You seem to be settling in well at the job,” she said, making polite conversation. She’d lost some of her interpersonal skills in the last year. While never an extrovert like Dominic, she used to at least be able to keep up her end of meaningless chitchat without excruciating minute-long silences. A minute could be a very long time.

“Oh, it’s going great,” Rachel said brightly, as if she had to force it. She’d been stilted since the episode over the itinerary. “It’ll be nice to get home a little early and cook dinner,” she added. “Sometimes I’m rushing so much that I end up making something out of a box or picking up fast food. I hate giving the boys fast food all the time.”

Erin closed her eyes two seconds longer than necessary. “Yes,” she agreed, “kids eat too much fast food these days.” She admired that Rachel had been a stay-at-home mom until her divorce. Erin herself could never have given over her independence to a man, not even Dominic, but she remembered the effort it took to provide nutritious meals. Now . . . well, now she didn’t plan anything until she got home and saw what hadn’t gone bad in the fridge. Or they got takeout. Usually takeout, come to think of it.

She never thought to ask how Dominic felt about that. Another weed of guilt sprouted in the backyard of her mind.

“The boys are good about helping to get stuff ready.” Rachel flipped her visor down against the sun’s sudden glare on the windshield.

The rain had stopped for the first time in a week. Since Dominic had gotten Erin to agree to the trip, every day had been cloudy and rainy, some days a drizzle, others a downpour. She’d hardly noticed; it shocked her more when the sun came out, as if the gloom suited her better. She should have used the weather as an excuse not to travel. She hadn’t. She’d made no excuses whatsoever. If she got it over with, showed Dominic how miserable she was, he wouldn’t ask again. Yet there was the niggling guilt that she’d forced him to beg for attention.

Standing in his lab, her fingers had tingled as if they’d fallen asleep, and her anger vanished. They didn’t talk about it, but she knew Dominic had just as many hard memories. She was so me-me-me, she ignored him. In her defense, Dominic seemed so much more . . . even-keeled. She’d always been the moody one, even before. He’d wanted to do grief counseling. She didn’t know why. He hadn’t needed it. He’d come to terms with everything after the first few months.

The silence in the car was suddenly expectant. God, she’d totally missed what Rachel had said. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing important.”

Damn. It probably was. But there she’d gone being me-me-me again. “I really like that sweater you’re wearing.” Totally inane, but on the fly, she couldn’t come up with anything else. God, her social skills sucked. She should have driven herself to the airport and left the car in the long-term lot.

Rachel plucked at the fake fur collar of her cardigan. Black, short, the sweater was made of a wool that looked both soft and warm. “This?” She laughed. “I bought it at the thrift store for a dollar. It was a deal.”

Erin stopped the gape before her mouth actually dropped open. “It’s nice.” It was, honestly, but she wouldn’t be caught buying at secondhand places. As a kid, secondhand was all she wore, either from her sisters or cousins, or they were Salvation Army issue. After she and Dominic moved to California and made a bit of money, she’d never stepped foot in another thrift store. Not that she begrudged other people who did. Rachel was a single mother on a tight budget. The difference was that Erin would never have admitted where she got the sweater.

“Thanks.” Rachel accepted the compliment without a blink, attesting to the fact that she couldn’t have grown up poor.

They fell into silence, cars winging by Rachel’s minivan on either side as she stuck to the speed limit. Erin once again searched for something to say.

Rachel pursed her lips, gaze straight ahead on the road. “Yvonne told me not to say anything, but I need to.” Erin’s stomach rolled as Rachel quickly glanced at her before going on. “I’m feeling uncomfortable with this hanging between us.”

What?
Erin couldn’t manage the word. She didn’t want to hear. Yet she knew.

“I’m so sorry about your little boy.” Rachel shook her head slowly, back and forth, her eyes on the road.

Erin’s insides hollowed out, nothing but a vast empty space left inside her. “That’s okay.” She felt as if someone else said the words.

“I had to say it, mother to mother, not employee to boss.”

Erin’s throat hurt. “Thank you.” She wasn’t thankful at all. For a moment, part of her hated the other woman. Rachel had two boys to rush home to. Erin would have sold her soul to be rushing home to make her son’s dinner.

But her emotions weren’t fair to Rachel. Face on, the woman was pretty in an ordinary way, but from the side, she suddenly seemed so much stronger. She probably only saw the ordinary, straight-forward view of herself, not the strength in her profile. You never saw yourself the way other people did. Erin didn’t want to know how others saw her. Yvonne had warned Rachel not to say anything. Because she didn’t think Erin was strong enough?

“I won’t say anything else about it,” Rachel added as if more was necessary. “I just wanted you to know how I felt.”

No one ever talked about Jay at DKG. She and Dominic didn’t talk about him. If she said anything, all her feelings might come spilling out, her guilt, her fear, her insanity.

A man from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had come. A month after. To interview them about what happened. The CDC documented all these kinds of “events.” He’d said it was extremely rare, and she’d wanted to scream at him. If it was so rare, then why
her
child? Why, God,
why
? She’d said nothing, though. Dominic had answered the questions: where Jay had been, the school trip. How Dominic should have been there that day, but they’d had a difficult product release, and he’d opted to let Jay go on the day trip with the teachers and other parent chaperones. He’d taken his blame. Dominic had always taken his blame. They went on to how the doctors figured Jay had gotten the amoeba. Horse playing in the hot springs. A cannonball. Water up his nose carrying the tiny microscopic things that . . . She couldn’t even think about what those
things
had done to him. Almost the first words out of the CDC man’s mouth were that it wasn’t their fault, nothing they could have done. Nothing. But he didn’t know what she’d said to Jay, what she’d done. No one knew. Especially not Dominic.

Erin bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Otherwise, she might have screamed. “Thank you. You’re very caring. I appreciate your concern.”

Rachel reached over to pat her knee. It felt . . . odd, like an out of body of experience, not her knee at all. Erin knew the only way she could go on was to keep pretending that everything was okay, nothing had gone wrong, her life hadn’t fallen apart a year ago.

God, she needed something, anything to stop the freight train of memories and guilt bearing down on her. She needed Dominic. Needed a shot of hot sex that would make everything go away. It was easier to push aside the black thoughts in the dark, where there was nothing but the physical. Sometimes the need felt almost like an addiction, have another shot of Jack Daniels to make you forget, pop another of those pills. Or have hot, quick, mind-numbing sex. In the dark, she didn’t think about Jay; she simply acted, reaching for Dominic, driving out every other thought. She needed that fix now. How was she supposed to make it through the whole plane trip by herself? Last night alone in their bed had been bad enough, but Rachel’s words had pushed her to the wall.